


Candles In The Dark

by blanketed_in_stars



Series: 12 Days of Shipmas [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5375012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketed_in_stars/pseuds/blanketed_in_stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trailer is dark, as is the town and the earth and the sky above it all. Michonne lies awake in the blackness and realizes it’s Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candles In The Dark

The trailer is dark, as is the town and the earth and the sky above it all. Michonne lies awake in the blackness and realizes it’s Christmas.

There’s a calendar on the wall that she looked at before the daylight faded. She knows what day all of this started and she knows how many months it’s been. She knows what the weather in Georgia is like. If it’s not today, it’s not far off.

Merry Christmas, Michonne thinks wryly, and wonders what she’s supposed to do. They don’t have a tree or mistletoe or any of it—only blood-and-rust scratches in front of the door to the trailer, and a woman in a paisley scarf with flesh hanging from her face lying in pieces outside.

Although such thoughts have long since lost their power, Michonne inches closer to Andrea’s back. They share the bed for warmth and the comfort of knowing they’re not alone—and sometimes more. Her heart still pounds when she thinks about that. She reaches out and twirls a few strands of Andrea’s hair between her fingers. In the darkness, the light color seems to glow.

Andrea shifts and makes a soft noise. Michonne lets go. But then Andrea shifts again, and rolls over to face Michonne. Her face is barely visible, but they’re only a few inches apart. Close enough to kiss.

“I can’t sleep,” Andrea sighs.

“Me neither.”

“What are you thinking about?” It’s barely a whisper.

Saying it out loud seems silly. But Andrea asked, and Michonne can never refuse. “Christmas,” she confesses, and her cheeks warm a little. “I think it’s today.”

Andrea laughs, sounding surprised. “Really? Merry Christmas, then.”

It doesn’t sound as foolish coming from her mouth. In fact, it sounds closer to normal than anything Michonne’s heard in months. “I wish you could’ve been around for the holidays,” she says. “You know. Before.”

“What was it like?” Andrea asks. “Did you have family traditions?” After a moment, she adds, “You don’t have to answer.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind talking about this—I mean, there’s not much to tell.” She closes her eyes briefly and sees the glow of candles. “Midnight mass,” she says. “That’s what I remember most. Also this one year, my brother gave me…” She trails off without realizing. What does it matter, now, when all of that is so far gone? A heavy feeling grows in her chest.

Andrea kisses her nose. “I know,” she murmurs. Of course she does, even though Michonne hasn’t said anything. “And this doesn’t change anything, but—we’re here now. We’re together. We can have Christmas.”

“You’re getting sentimental,” Michonne tells her.

“Maybe,” Andrea allows, “but it’s true.”

“Does this look festive?”

Andrea doesn’t turn to look at the trailer. She doesn’t move her gaze from Michonne. “All I need is you,” she says. She moves in and kisses her, gently, sweetly. “There. It’s Christmas.”

Michonne, lost in the warmth of the darkness, has to agree. She returns the kiss. “Hallelujah.”


End file.
